God’s  Voice  in  the  Soul 


A Convert’s  Story 


New  York 

THE  PAULIST  PRESS 
401  West  59th  Street 


God’s  Voice  in  the  Soul 


A CONVERT’S  STORY 


New  York 

THE  PAULIST  PRESS 
401  West  59th  Street 


Copyright,  1915,  by  “ The  Missionary  Society  of 
St.  Paul  the  Apostle  in  the  State 
of  New  York.’’ 


God’s  Voice  in  the  Soul 

A Convert's  Story . 


My  Dear  Friend: 

You  have  asked  me  why  I became  a Catholic.  If  you 
were  to  ask  how  I became  a Catholic,  it  were,  possibly, 
more  easily  answered.  Also,  if  you  mean  what  prompted 
me  to  think  of  the  Catholic  Church,  the  Catholic  form  of 
worship,  the  Catholic  doctrines'  and  teachings  of  religion, 
then  I answer : only  heaven  knows ; I certainly  do  not. 

To  you,  who  knew  my  Christian  mother,  I need  not 
point  out  the  fact  that  I was  raised  in  a God-fearing 
household.  My  parents  were  staunch  Protestants, 

Methodists ; my  father  a sincere  Bible  student  and 
teacher.  I was  accustomed  from  childhood  to  attend  at 
church,  Sunday-school,  prayer-meeting,  etc.  I distinctly 
remember  joining  the  church  and  professing  “ conver- 
sion/’ But  in  all  the  years  following,  there  was  very 
little  in  religion  as  I experienced  it,  for  me  to  cling  1o, 
very  little  to  cheer  or  uplift  or  even  to  attract.  I cannot 
describe  the  “ unsatisfied  ” effect  it  produced. 

Then,  as  you  know,  I left  my  home  town  and  came 
here  to  the  hospital  for  a course  in  nursing.  Gradually, 
while  here,  I gave  up  going  to  church.  As  I was  obliged 
to  be  on  duty  all  of  Sunday  morning,  there  was  no  chance 
for  attendance  at  church  until  evening,  when  one  felt  that 
one  must  rest  or  die. 

Dear  friend,  it  was  one  night  while  on  duty,  that  the 
thought  came  to  my  mind  (and  to  my  annoyance,  per- 


4 


God's  Voice  in  the  Soul 


sisted)  : “ What  have  you  done  with  your  life,  and  what 
will  be  the  end  for. you?  Why  do  you  not  see  a minister 
and  talk  with  him?  Remember  your  registered  vow  to 
meet  your  mother  in  a better  world.”  And  suddenly, 
in  a manner  I can  never  explain — for  to  me  there  was 
no  explanation — the  thought,  the  idea,  the  very  presence, 
of  the  Catholic  Church  made  itself  known  to  my  con- 
sciousness. I stood  appalled.  I,  who  had  never  allowed 
a favorable  thought  of  Catholicism  to  enter  my  mind, 
why  should  I be  haunted  with  this  suggestion  at  this 
time? 

In  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  Canada's  fair  cities, 
lives  a very  dear  friend.  Her  name  immediately  occurred 
to  me  as  that  of  one  to  whom  I could  turn  and  hope  for 
help.  She,  herself,  is  a devout  Catholic,  of  the  whole- 
some “ sunshine  ” type,  her  heart  at  once  wrapped  up  in 
her  home  and  in  her  Church.  I determined  at  once  to 
visit  her,  and  seek  in  her  life  the  key  to  her  joy  and 
seemingly  perfect  peace  of  mind  and  heart. 

As  you  know,  I went  and  remained  with  her  one 
month.  Instead  of  talking  openly  and  revealing  to  her 
my  great  need,  I silently  watched  the  lives  of  that  happy 
household.  I lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  Catholic  religion, 
practised  in  all  its  beauty  and  joyousness  of  spirit  every 
hour  of  the  day.  They  may  never  know  how  their  words 
and  actions  for  that  one  month  affected  my  life. 

I might  mention  one  little  circumstance  of  this  visit. 
As  my  friend  and  her  little  daughters  were  about  to  leave 
the  house  one  day,  she  turned  to  me  and  said,  a We  are 
going  to  the  church.  You  would  not  care  anything  about 
it,  as  we  are  going  to  confession.  So  I will  not  ask  you 
to  accompany  us.” 


God's  Voice  in  the  Soul 


5 


“Confession!  Tell  me,  how  can  you  ever  do  this? 
Why  do  you  go  to  a priest  and  tell  him  of  all  your  sins?  ” 

Very  patiently  she  explained  to  me  that  the  confession 
was  made  to  the  Saviour  of  the  world ; not  to  the  man 
or  priest,  but  to  ^Christ  through  His  representative. 

I decided  to  keep  quiet  concerning  anything  further, 
for  that  one  idea  alone  caused  me  to  lose  more  than  a 
little  sleep  in  trying  to  solve  the  problem  which  so  vexed 
me. 

During  my  entire  stay  in  their  home,  I failed  to  enter 
the  door  of  any  church.  Long  habit  had  its  way. 

I had  no  desire  for  the  Protestant  faith ; neither  had 
I,  as  yet,  the  courage  to  visit  a Catholic  Church.  To  my 
knowledge,  I had  attended  a Catholic  service  (the  Mass) 
only  twice  in  my  life  before  this. 

You  can  imagine  how  my  non-attendance  at  church  ap- 
peared to  devout  Catholics.  I remember  the  last  even- 
ing I was  to  spend  with  them.  While  out  walking  we 
passed  a newly-erected  building,  my  friend  remarking, 
“ A Presbyterian  church.  You  will  have  no  excuse  for 
not  going  to  church  the  next  time  you  visit  us,  this  is  so 
near  home.” 

I replied,  “ I believe  you  are  shocked  because  I do  not 
go  to  church.” 

“ Yes,  I am ! ” so  quietly  spoken,  yet  having  all  the 
force  of  a blow  which  did  not  fail  of  its  mark.  Never 
from  that  instant  did  I know  what  quietness  of  mind 
meant.  I was  worried,  racked,  tormented,  as  never  in  the 
course  of  my  existence.  I think  now,  as  I look  back,  that 
God  himself  spoke  to  me,  for  the  sound  of  the  words, 
simple  though  they  were,  arrested  my  footsteps,  and  I 
scarcely  had  strength  to  proceed  as  though  nothing  un- 


6 


God's  Voice  in  the  Soul 


usual  had  happened.  I remember  a swift,  sharp  view  of 
my  life  seemed  given  to  me,  just  for  one  instant.  Then 
it  faded,  but  not  so  the  remembrance. 

As  I left  town  the  next  day  on  my  way  to  New  York, 
everything  along  the  way  seemed  to  add  to  the  conflict  in 
my  mind.  Every  throb  and  beat  of  the  mighty  engine 
cried  aloud,  “ Why  don’t  you  give  up  this  struggle  and 
become  a Catholic  ? ” and  the  cry  was  echoed  in  the  grind 
and  pound  of  the  wheels. 

Oh,  that  trip  home ! As  we  swept  past  pleasant,  busy 
towns  or  along  the  bank  of  an  eddying  river,  or  threaded 
our  way  among  the  giant  hills — shall  I ever  forget  the  cry 
which  came  from  my  soul.  “ Oh,  my  mother’s  God,  do 
not  leave  me  alone  in  this  black  darkness ! ” 

I never  told  you  how,  when  I reached  home,  I took  pen 
and  paper  and  poured  out  my  heart’s  bitter,  bitter  loneli- 
ness to  this  same  friend  to  whom  I had  waved  a last 
good-bye  a few  short  hours  before.  I simply  asked  her 
to  help  me  in  any  way  she  could,  for  things  were  becom- 
ing more  “ mixed-up  ” all  the  time.  She  did  not  fail  me. 
To  be  brief,  I took  her  advice  and  went  to  see  a priest — 
yes,  I,  even  I,  who  had  never  exchanged  a word  with 
a Catholic  priest  in  all  my  life.  Be  sure,  I delayed  this 
visit  as  long  as  I could ; but  one  day  I left  home  with  a 
very  determined  air,  and  the  firm  intention  of  applying 
to  one  of  the  Paulist  Fathers  for  advice  and  help. 

It  had  become  almost  a daily  habit  with  me,  after  my 
return  to  town,  to  visit  one  or  other  of  the  Catholic 
churches.  And  daily  it  became  more  perplexing  to  ac- 
count for  the  peculiar  atmosphere  pervading  these 
churches,  so  different  from  that  of  any  Protestant  church 
which  I had  ever  seen.  I did  not  know  then  that  the 


God's  Voice  in  the  Soul 


7 


reason  existed  behind  that  little  Tabernacle  door  in  the 
divine  presence  of  Jesus  in  the  Blessed  Sacrament;  the 
eloquence  of  His  silence,  His  truth  and  sweetness  pene- 
trating to  the  farthermost  corners  of  that  vast,  sacred 
edifice. 

When  I reached  the  church,  the  intention  I spoke  of 
was  still  alive,  but  the  air  of  assurance  had,  somehow, 
vanished.  Did  I ever  tell  you  that  I walked  past  the  door 
just  four  times?  I struggled  against  entering  the  office, 
even  when  I knew  I must.  By  the  time  I had  entered 
and  asked  for  a priest — “ Anyone  at  all,  I don’t  care 
who  he  is  ”■ — the  nervous  tension  was  at  its  height. 

While  waiting,  I glanced  idly  around  at  the  faces  of 
others,  who,  like  myself,  wished  for  a word  with  the 
priest.  Be  assured  I was  not  attracted  by  what  I saw. 
I cannot  give  you  any  idea  of  the  repulsion  with  which 
these  people  inspired  me.  I could  not  bring  myself  to 
be  seated  in  their  midst.  I remember  that  when  the 
priest  entered  the  room,  he  found  me  standing. 

There  they  sat,  unkempt,  poorly-clad,  altogether  most 
distressing-looking  creatures.  Immediately,  the  ever- 
ready  Protestant  view  presented  itself:  “ Poor  dupes! 
ready  to  believe  anything  their  priests  may  place  before 
their  minds.  Mere  tools  of  their  Church.  Oh ! why  did 
I ever  enter  this  place  ? ” 

May  heaven  forgive  the  merciless,  egotistical  pride  of 
which  I was  guilty  at  that  moment.  Did  I not  insult  the 
King  of  kings,  the  meek  and  lowly  Christ,  Who,  perhaps 
at  that  instant,  was  shining  forth  in  beauty  in  the  soul 
of  the  poorest  and  most  apparently  ignorant  person  there. 

I almost  decided  to  leave  the  building;  there  certainly 
was  nothing  in  all  this  for  me.  These  people  might  fol- 


God's  Voice  in  the  Soul 


low  religion  in  their  own  way;  it  was  not  and  never 
could  be  my  way. 

I was  recalled  to  myself  by  the  presence  of  a young 
priest  bowing  and  asking  me  to  “ kindly  step  this  way.” 
I followed  him  into  a reception-room  and,  after  telling 
him  how  entirely  I was  a stranger  to  his  Church,  I sud- 
denly found  myself  sobbing  out  my  story. 

I can  almost  hear  you  ask : “ And  even  after  this,  how 
could  you,  for  one  moment,  accept  the  doctrines  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church  ? ” 

You  are  surprised,  of  course;  what  more  natural?  I 
may  say  that  never  in  my  life  had  I actually  known  any 
one  doctrine  of  this  Church.  I had  always  disliked  in- 
tensely anything  even  supposedly  Catholic.  I had  never 
been  told  anything  in  favor  of  Catholics.  I was  entirely 
ignorant  of  their  beliefs  and  practices,  with  the  one  ex- 
ception : confession. 

But  I very  quickly  found  that  I had  gone  to  the  right 
place  for  help,  for,  during  my  many  talks  with  this  min- 
ister of  God,  to  me  was  gradually  unfolded  the  religion 
of  the  Gospel  in  all  its  simple  truth  and  beauty.  How 
very  plainly  it  all  appeared  to  me:  the  Catholic  Church, 
the  Church  established  by  Christ  Himself  when  on  earth. 
Once  I saw  this,  I was  persuaded  there  was  nothing  more 
to  be  said. 

But  oh ! the  way  was  weary  and  long  and  very  dark 
before  I found  the  light.  I am  not  going  to  weary  you 
with  a long  dissertation  upon  the  different  Catholic  doc- 
trines. The  conclusion  of  my  instructions  was  this,  as 
I have  already  stated,  viz. : the  Catholic  Church  is  the 
representative  Church  of  Christ.  Let  me,  however,  give 
you  my  chief  difficulties.  These  were  confession,  inter- 


God's  Y'oice  in  the  Soul  9 

cession,  and  the  honor  shown  by  Catholics  to  the  Mother 
of  Christ. 

Well  do  I remember  how  very  obstinate  I was,  but  I 
acted  sincerely.  My  instructor  pointed  out  the  reason 
why  the  Church  taught  and  practiced  confession,  quoting 
this  text : “ Whatsoever  you  shall  bind  upon  earth,  shall 
be  bound  also  in  heaven,  and  whatsoever  you  shall  loose 
upon  earth,  shall  be  loosed  also  in  heaven  ” (Matt,  xviii. 
18).  Again:  “ Whose  sins  you  shall  forgive,  they  are  for- 
given them ; and  whose  sins  you  shall  retain,  they  are  re- 
tained " (John  xx.  23). 

I actually  hated  the  idea.  Had  it  meant  pain  and 
sudden  death,  it  could  not  have  repelled  me  more.  I 
tried  my  best  to  make  the  priest  see  the  tremendous  error 
by  which  he  was  deluded,  but  somehow  he  did  not  ap- 
pear convinced.  Then,  when  he  had  almost  given  up,  he 
had  the  happy  idea  of  placing  before  me  a number  of 
non-Catholic  commentaries  to  show  me  their  interpreta- 
tion of  the  same  texts.  I read  the  explanations  and  could 
only  gasp,  “ Why,  they  don't  explain  it  at  all ; they  are  all 
confused." 

“ If  you  can  give  me  any  other  explanation  of  this 
text,  'Whose  sins, '.etc.,  than  that  of  the  Church,  I wish 
you  would  do  so,"  he  replied. 

I wished  I could,  too,  you  may  be  sure,  but  I could  not, 

I cannot  describe  my  struggle.  How  I was  driven  to 
and  fro  by  the  thought  of  kneeling  at  the  side  of  a priest 
and  revealing  to  him  the  secrets  of  my  soul!  If  only  I 
could  be  a Catholic  without  this  practice!  I feel  sure 
that  I can  safely  state  that  my  idea  of  confession  was 
identical  with  your  own. 

But  since  conversion  I have  lost  this  dread  of  which  I 


10 


God's  Voice  in  the  Soul 


speak,  and  now  I experience  that  which  only  one  who 
lives  a Catholic  life  can  know — the  comfort  and  strength 
which  come  to  the  soul  in  confession. 

My  state  of  mind  was  by  now  almost  indescribable,  not 
to  say  unendurable.  I could  not  sleep;  I could  scarcely 
eat.  I was  possessed  by  the  one  thought  day  and  night: 
if  the  priest  is  right  in  his  assertion  that  the  Catholic 
Church  is  the  one  true  Church,  then  I must  become  a 
Catholic  or  forever  remain  outside  the  Church  of  God. 
But  how,  in  heaven’s  name,  can  I do  this  thing?  What 
will  people  say?  My  friends  will  shun  me  as  they  would 
the  plague.  And  my  own  people!  Oh!  it  is  quite  im- 
possible ; I may  as  well  give  up.  However,  I will  go  back 
just  once  more,  but  only  once! 

I went  and  my  message  to  the  priest  that  day  was 
this : 

“ I am  not  coming  again.  I shall  be  like  the  young 
man  who  went  away  sorrowful.  I,  too,  am  sorrowful, 
but  it  does  not  prevent  my  failure  to  enter  your  Church.” 

It  was  here  that  the  priest  asked  me  to  take  pen  and 
paper  when  I reached  home  and  write  down  under  this 
headline : “ My  reasons  for  not  becoming  a Catholic,” 
one  after  another,  whatever  objections  I might  have. 

I could  not  refuse  this  simple  request.  But  was  I ever 
more  surprised  in  my  life!  Instead  of  the  easy  little 
task  I thought,  I found  myself  facing  an  impossibility. 
I could  not,  in  all  truth  and  sincerity,  give  any  one  good, 
sound  reason  for  my  act.  How  could  I face  this  fact 
and  deliberately  remain  away  from  instruction?  So  a 
few  days  later  found  me  in  my  old  place  making  the  as- 
tounding statement : “ I am  not  a Catholic,  but  there  are 
no  reasons  to  be  found  why  I am  not.” 


God's  Voice  in  the  Soul 


ii 


And  still  I continued  under  instruction.  Throughout 
these  weeks  I could  not  but  note  the  willingness,  the 
gentleness  and  patience  with  which  this  priest  met  my 
often  irritating  and  senseless  remarks  and  objections. 
But  he  guided  me  step  by  step  past  all  those  rough  places, 
until  at  last  the  path  lay  plain  to  view. 

For  all  this  my  troubles  were  not  yet  over.  My  gen- 
eral attitude  towards  Catholicism  did  not  change.  I still 
viewed  with  disfavor  that  which  I had  always  been 
taught  was  opposed  to  true  Christianity.  I know  now 
that  I am  only  inviting  the  criticism  that  my  statements 
are  quite  irreconcilable,  when  I assert  that  I felt  the 
greatest  yearning  to  be  able  to  believe,  while  all  the  time 
regarding  the  Church  with  suspicion  and  distrust. 

But  gradually  all  this  gave  way  before  my  instructor's 
resolute  and  capable  teaching.  Then  followed  a distrust 
of  myself : “If  all  this  is  so,  why  don’t  I feel  it.  Why  am 
I not  sensible  of  these  doctrines?  I must  experience 
them.  Surely  there  should  be  a certain  sense  of  joy 
with  this?” 

I think  you  know  that  my  immediate  family  consisted 
of  an  elder  brother  and  myself.  It  would  take  too  long 
to  go  into  the  surprise  and  absolute  incredulity  of  this 
brother  when  he  learned  my  state  of  mind.  To  my 
assertion  that  I had  read  a number  of  Catholic  works,  he 
gently  bade  me  “ get  that  idea  out  of  my  head  as  quickly 
as  possible.”  But  I could  not  rest  until  he  knew  all 
about  my  struggle,  so  at  last  I unburdened  my  heart  to 
him. 

He  replied:  “ I am  afraid  you  will  not  receive  from  it 
all  that  you  expect.  But  i*  you  will  be  happier  or  obtain 
any  joy  through  being  a Catholic,  then  go  ahead.  But  I 


12 


God's  Voice  in  the  Soul 


must  tell  you  there  is  one  teaching  of  the  Catholic  Church 
which  you  or  I could  never  accept  as  true.  It  is  the 
doctrine  of  the  Eucharist.  That  is  all  very  well  for 
Catholics  who  have  always  been  such : they  are  sincere 
in  their  belief.  But  for  you  and  I who  have  known 
differently,  any  such  doctrine  could  not  be  acceptable  for 
one  moment.  You  may  think  you  believe  it;  you  may 
even  say  in  your  heart,  ‘I  do  believe/  but  your  head  will 
never  ratify  the  agreement.” 

I left  him  with  my  heart  just  aching.  What  if  he  were 
right,  and  I should  suddenly  find  I had  been  mistaken  in 
my  belief?  Oh,  better  to  never  have  become  a Catholic 
at  all ! I received  my  answer  from  my  director  in  most 
convincing  terms : “ Then  the  Church,  sorrowfully  but 
emphatically,  would  be  the  first  to  ask  you  to  leave  her 
fold/’  I wanted  to  become  a Catholic,  but  hesitated  to 
take  the  final  step.  And  I cannot  tell  you,  nor  did  my 
instructor  realize,  how  I yearned  for  the  blessing  of 
baptism.  And  yet  in  the  face  of  this  fact,  I persisted 
in  postponing  the  reception  of  this  sacrament.  As  I re- 
view those  days  of  worry,  my  procrastination  seems 
nothing  short  of  incredible. 

Never  shall  I forget  the  night  following  the  conversa- 
tion with  my  brother.  My  agony  of  mind  and  soul  for- 
bade all  thought  of  rest.  My  Gethsemane  was  reached. 
Dawn  found  me  no  nearer  a decision  than  before.  Then 
it  was  I sought  the  priest  a second  time  of  my  own 
volition,  and  again  God  spoke  through  His  minister: 

“ Do  not  sin  against  this  grace,  for  certainly  it  is  such 
and  certainly  it  has  been  given  to  you.  Every  day  that 
you  put  off  that  which  I am  convinced  you  feel  to  be  your 
duty,  you  are  trifling  with  grace.” 


God's  Voice  in  the  Soul 


13 


For  answer  I rose  and  made  my  way  towards  the  door 
as  best  I could,  the  state  of  my  mind  almost  depriving 
me  of  my  senses,  certainly  hiding  from  me  my  rudeness 
in  acting  as  I did.  Then,  one  last  pleading  question  on 
the  part  of  this  man  of  God,  who  was  striving  so  hard 
to  save  my  soul,  “ Won't  you  be  baptized  to-morrow?  ” 

“Oh!  I cannot;  do  not  ask  me.  Perhaps  after 
Easter  but  not  now,  oh,  not  now ! " Now  mind,  this  was 
in  October. 

I reached  home,  convinced,  if  not  determined,  that  I 
would  not  visit  the  office  again.  No,  my  mind  was  made 
up  now.  I had  certainly  enjoyed  the  “ lectures/'  but  it 
was  not  for  me — this  great  and  beautiful  possession 
called  religion.  Perhaps  some  day  my  mind  would  be- 
come normal  again,  and  I would  once  more  command  my 
life  to  my  own  satisfaction. 

“ And  then,"  whispered  conscience,  “ what  after  this 
life?  " The  old  cry,  what  have  you  done  with  your  life? 

But  the  end  was  not  yet.  When  the  morning's  mail 
brought  me  another  invitation  for  baptism,  with  this 
addition : “ I shall  remain  at  home  for  some  answer 

from  you,"  I resolved  to  deliver  my  reply  in  person.  It 
was  then  that  the  priest  made  one  final  almost  despairing 
effort  to  gain  my  consent  to  baptism.  Being  obliged  to 
leave  town  he  begged  of  me  to  be  baptized  before  he 
left. 

Even  as  he  spoke,  I dared  delay  no  longer;  and  then 
very  quietly  and  very  quickly  I was  made  one  of  that 
vast  family  of  God.  There  was  no  great  joy,  no  won- 
derful sense  of  exultation  of  spirit;  but  like  a well- 
known  Catholic  convert  whose  name  will  live  through 
all  the  ages  as  a synonym  for  devotion  to  God  and  to 


God's  Voice  in  the  Soul 


H 

His  Church,  I did  what  appeared  to  me  to  be  my  im- 
mediate duty. 

And  now,  my  friend,  have  I answered  you?  You  have 
read  of  how  I became  a Catholic  but,  I must  repeat,  why 
I do  not  know.  However,  lest  you  misunderstand  me,  I 
will  say  that  the  intellect  alone  cannot  give  a satisfactory 
explanation. 

For  instance,  can  you  explain  why,  as  I sat  one  night 
at  my  desk,  calmly  pursuing  my  usual  duties,  in  an  instant 
of  time,  no  longer  than  it  takes  the  lightning  to  flash  its 
vivid  trail  across  an  inky  sky,  I should  experience  any- 
thing so  disturbing  as  the  perplexing  question  of  my 
soul’s  salvation? 

You  may  answer  that  very  probably  a recent  deathbed 
scene  in  the  hospital  had  suggested  the  idea.  I reply, 
no,  my  duties  do  not  take  me  among  the  patients. 
Nor,  in  this  institution,  owned  and  controlled  by  a 
Hebrew  directorate,  are  there  any  religious  emblems  to 
meet  the  eye.  The  practice  of  the  Christian  religion 
among  the  patients  is  almost  unknown,  the  great  majority 
being  Jewish.  The  same  faith  prevails  among  the  doc- 
tors and  a number  of  the  nurses. 

Again,  why  should  I,  who,  so  far  from  having  enter- 
tained any  kindly  feelings  towards  Catholicism,  had  al- 
ways looked  upon  that  Church  with  suspicion  and  even  re- 
pulsion ; who  never  in  my  life  had  spoken  with  a Catholic 
clergyman ; who  knew  nothing  of  Catholic  doctrines  and 
practices — why  should  I,  I ask,  absorbed  in  my  duties  as 
usual,  have  thrust  upon  me  the  very  presence  of  the 
Catholic  Church?  To  it  all,  from  the  standpoint  of  pure 
reasoning,  I cannot  give  an  answer. 

But  away  and  beyond  all  intellectual  speculation,  comes 


God's  Voice  in  the  Soul 


15 


an  answer  only  faintly  caught  by  the  mind  of  the  un- 
believer, but  to  me  ringing  clear  and  true  and  wondrous 
sweet:  “ My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee.”  For  grace — 

God's  friendship  for  me  through  the  blood  of  Christ — 
all  eternity  is  not  long  enough  in  which  to  give  thanks. 

To  be  sure,  a non-Catholic  might  exclaim:  “ Absurd ! 

she  is  sentimental  as  well  as  foolish.”  Or,  “ Her 
thoughts  were  caused  by  some  real,  tangible  reason  un- 
known to  herself.” 

Supposing  I grant  both  these  assumptions,  still  you 
will  not  quarrel  with  me,  I hope,  when  I attribute  the 
cause  to  that  of  grace. 

It  is  now  over  a year  since  my  baptism.  I have  ex- 
perienced failure  at  many  points,  but  never  disappoint- 
ment in,  or  doubt  of,  this  religion. 

May  God's  eternal  blessing  rest  upon  those  who  had 
aught  to  do  with  my  entrance  into  the  Church  of  God ; 
with  this  joy  which  has  come  into  my  life — not  as  a 
passing  wave  of  emotion,  but  abiding  as  a river,  deep 
and  broad  and  still. 

And  that  you  and  all  the  world  may  experience  the 
same  peace  and  satisfaction  which  I have  found  in  the 
Catholic  Faith,  is  my  sincere  and  earnest  desire. 

I would  remain,  now  and  always,  faithfully, 

Your  friend, 

“ X.” 


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